Killer Smile

by RC Bridgestock

  ‘How’s Maisy?’ she said as she walked towards the inner scene cordon with him.

  ‘The operation went well, we’re told,’ he said.

  ‘And Jen?’

  ‘At the hospital, she’s sleeping there.’

  ‘And this morning?’

  ‘A little early to ring don’t you think?’ he said, looking at his watch. He stood, sallow and solid looking at her with dull, blue eyes, his face impassive.

  His attention turned to DS Rajinder Uppal immediately they caught up with her. ‘It’s good of Calderdale Division to let you come quickly,’ he said. ‘Glad to have you on board. You know Vicky, that’s a bonus. Have you got an update for me?’

  ‘What do you already know, sir?’

  ‘Brief circumstances as you’d expect from a call out by the Control Room in the middle of the night.’

  ‘Okay, so we’ve got a body of a young lad, approximately twenty years old. It appears he may have been in a fight or he could have been robbed,’ she said. ‘He has a serious depressed head injury which is consistent with him being hit with force, by a hard object. Paramedics have pronounced him dead at the scene and his body is still in situ. The outer cordon is being sealed at this moment,’ she said pointing to the hive of activity before them.

  ‘How was it reported?’ said Vicky.

  ‘Key-holder from Mushies rang it in – we’ve established that he was the last to leave the nightclub,’ said Raj.

  ‘Mushies? Why on earth would anyone give a night club a street name for drugs?’ said Vicky.

  ‘Magic Mushrooms,’ said Raj with the raising of her eyebrows. ‘What time do they close?’

  ‘Oi Andy, what time does Mushie’s turf them out?’ Vicky shouted across to Andy Wormald who stood at the open rear doors of the CSI van.

  ‘About twoish,’ he said struggling into the small sized disposable suit CSI had provided.

  ‘Haven’t you got any bigger sizes?’ he said.

  ‘Sorry, that’s all we have left mate,’ said Stuart, digging deep into a CSI holdall.

  Andy discarded his jacket and took off his tie. Coverall pulled up over his head he looked like someone had inflated him. ‘Bloody hell,’ he said with a groan as he bent down to enter the cordon and the suit split under his legs. He stood up directly and faced Dylan and the two women.

  Dylan’s eyes, that showed above his mask lost their flatness and crinkled at the sides. ‘Go to the boot of my car, there’s some large disposable suits in a carrier bag to the left hand side.’ He looked back at the DS’s. ‘I guess there’s little else open at this time of night, morning, around here, to attract the punters, apart from the nightclub?’

  ‘There is the China House Chinese take-away and Park and Ride Taxis,’ said Vicky.

  ‘I guess,’ he said, his nose now more sensitive to the smell oozing from the Indian takeaway a street away.

  ‘We’re lucky Stonestreet’s team are on duty,’ said Vicky.

  ‘I think you mean Inspector Stonestreet is the duty inspector?’ said Dylan.

  ‘I just said that didn’t I?’ she said with a quizzical frown.

  ‘You might try, but you’ll never change her,’ said Raj with a sigh and a shake of her head.

  ‘I know,’ he said.

  There was a deep depression in the victim’s skull. His mouth was open, swollen and bloodied. An open wallet lay a few yards away, propped up against a low, red brick wall. Across the pathway was a heavy metal pole that looked like a piece of scaffolding.

  ‘Discarded murder weapon maybe?’ said Raj.

  ‘More than likely,’ said Dylan.

  ‘Robbery seems like the obvious motive to me,’ said Vicky.

  Raj screwed up her eyes. ‘Yes, but there is still money in it.’

  ‘Maybe whoever did it got disturbed, threw away the weapon and the wallet and legged it,’ said Vicky.

  ‘Any CCTV about that we know of?’ Dylan said.

  ‘The database is being checked,’ said Andy who had just returned suitably suited and booted. ‘The nightclub doesn’t appear to have had their CCTV on out front.’

  ‘No surprise there then? Let’s face it that would record the fact they had underage drinkers in, and cut down half of their trade,’ said Vicky. ‘They’re not bloody daft.’

  ‘And the rest it could be recording,’ said Dylan. ‘I want a picture of the wallet in situ.’

  ‘No problem,’ said on duty CSI Supervisor Karen Ebdon, who had been busily and quietly snapping away in the background.

  The wallet photographed, Karen picked it up in between her finger and thumb and carefully opened it. ‘The wallet belongs to a Carl Braithwaite, twenty-two years old and he lives locally at 26, Moorlands Road. If he’s known to us we’ll have an ident,’ she said.

  ‘Good, when you’ve finished here, let me know. I want him to go straight to the mortuary.’

  ‘Joy, another post-mortem to look forward to tomorrow,’ said Vicky.

  ‘Today hopefully,’ said Dylan. ‘We’ll need some of that scaffolding pipe at the mortuary for comparison of size and shape of the wound. We also need to know who Mr Braithwaite lives with. Check the Burgess Roll. We’ll have to go and break the news to his family. Once the body is away I want you to head back and look at the resources we can draw from, the officers working today and not those on Operation Walnut if at all possible. Andy, I want you to follow the body to the mortuary for continuity will you and then everyone, we’ll reconvene back at the office for a scrum down later.’

  As they were walking away from the scene Dylan’s phone rang. ‘Jen?’ he said.

  ‘Where are you? I’ve been calling home,’ she said.

  ‘I’ve picked up another murder.’

  ‘Maisy is allergic to penicillin and the doctors are telling me that if they can’t get the meds right Maisy might lose her leg.’

  ‘Oh my God, I’m on my way,’ he said turning round into Vicky who was standing right behind him.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Maisy’s serious,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to go. Just do what I’ve said. You two are more than capable of spinning the plates. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

  ‘Do you want us to inform HQ and get another SIO?’ shouted Vicky.

  ‘Don’t you dare, not yet!’ shouted Dylan as he ran backwards towards his car. ‘We can do this. I have every faith in you.’

  ***

  From beside the bed where Maisy lay desperately ill Jen looked up at Dylan with hooded eyes that held no focus. Her face was contorted; her fingers pale where knuckles stretched skin as she clung to Maisy’s soft toy upon her knee. Dylan felt wretched and helpless as he watched the medical team prepare their daughter for a second operation to remove the infected tissue.

  Maisy was wheeled out of ICU quickly this time with no fuss or delay. Dylan enveloped Jen in his arms and held her tightly as the doors closed behind her. She sobbed uncontrollably, her nails digging deep into Dylan’s arms. The second banging of the door made her open her eyes. She blinked away her tears once, then twice, pulled back from Dylan, wiped the tears from her wet cheek. Dylan let her go and turned to see what she was looking at over his shoulder that had rendered her silent, to see Ralph, Jen’s dad standing at the door. Jen unbelieving looked at Dylan, then at Ralph and moved quickly across the room as if gliding and into her dad’s open arms. Ralph soothed her like Dylan imagined he would have done as a child.

  ‘Shh... she’s going to be okay,’ he said. ‘Don’t cry... we’ve got to be strong for Maisy.’

  ‘Dad you shouldn’t have travelled all this way.’

  Dylan and Ralph exchanged glances. Dylan looked sheepish.

  ‘You rang him didn’t you?’ she said to Dylan.

  He nodded.

  ‘But Dad...’

  ‘But nothing. Tell me who’s going to look after Max if you and Dylan need to be here?’ he said. ‘Thelma's son is home so she’ll not be missing me and there is nowhere else I want to be than with my gi
rls right now.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Dylan. ‘I really appreciate.’

  ‘What are dads for?’ said Ralph.

  ***

  Tension was building in the CID office. ‘He’s on the system Raj,’ said Vicky with a note of excitement in her voice. ‘Cautioned for possession of cannabis two years ago,’ she read from the computer screen. ‘But other than that we’ve no more intel on him.’

  ‘Electoral List shows an Albert Braithwaite, Ivy Braithwaite and Carl Braithwaite living at the address,’ said Raj.

  ‘Another family’s lives destroyed and we’ve got to go tell them. Dylan’s not here to deliver it... It’s up to us,’ Vicky said with a look of angst on her face.

  ‘I know a retired police officer who went to work for Camelot, the lottery people. Her job is now handing over the cheque to the lucky winners, in a variety of exotic locations. How’s about that for a job that gives job satisfaction?’ said Raj.

  ‘That’s one knock at my door I wouldn’t mind,’ she said.

  ‘But you and I are realists aren’t we? So we will roll our sleeves up and get on with it shall we? Do you want me to break the news?’

  ‘Will you? Dylan will not be happy he can’t do this himself. Well I mean...’

  ‘Don’t worry, I know what you mean but his family comes first Vicky. Remember that. Family must always come first...’

  ***

  Mr and Mrs Brathwaite sat on the sofa in their towelling dressing gowns, hand in hand. They looked at the two CID officers expectantly.

  ‘It’s Carl isn’t it?’ said Mrs Braithwaite.

  Raj nodded and looked down preparing herself to break the news and outline the circumstances of their son’s death. Initially the couple were calm and appeared stilted, even accepting but experience told the police officers they were in shock. Ivy Braithwaite’s lip trembled, she brought both hands up over her pale lips and closed her eyes. Her whole body appeared to sag and as her shaking hands slipped down to her chest she gasped. Tears spilled from the corner of the father’s grey watery eyes. He had a way of sniffing as though he suffered from nasal catarrh; his voice was monotone when he eventually spoke.

  ‘He was nothing but a lad...’ Mr Braithwaite pointed to a framed photo of handsome young man on the sideboard. ‘Even as a nipper Carl was always smiling... We’ve only just stopped listening for his key in the door before we go to sleep.’

  ‘You might have,’ whispered Carl’s mother.

  ‘We will need you to come to the mortuary and identify your son,’ said DS Raj.

  Albert Braithwaite nodded his head. His mouth was open but no words came out.

  ‘Is there anyone we can contact for you? There will be a Family Liaison Officer coming to see you. They will be able to answer all your questions and will support you. In the meantime if you are sure there is nothing we can do, here’s my card with my contact details on,’ Raj said handing it to Albert Braithwaite, who took it from her with a shaking hand.

  ***

  Harrowfield was waking up.

  The press release had gone out from the press office and a police spokesman said:

  ‘Officers were called to Viaduct Street at around two a.m. The body of a man was discovered. Officers remain at the scene and inquiries are continuing. Anybody with any information should call the police on 101.’

  The incident room for the murder of Carl Braithwaite was being set up, at a pace. Raj and Vicky knew that this needed to be done as a matter of urgency to support the various strategic approaches that would follow.

  The investigation needed to be kept separate from the Davina Walsh murder. Each incident was given a unique name so that they could not be mistaken for another.

  The team now in attendance waited for the Braithwaite murder’s operational name to be allocated by HQ.

  ***

  Ralph Jones pulled a face at his daughter. ‘Has Dylan got a problem?’ he said in a whisper.

  Maisy had been removed to a side ward and was off ICU, much to her parents’ and grandfather’s relief.

  The three had been sitting around Maisy’s bed waiting for her to wake for what seemed like hours. Frequently Dylan would jump at his phone vibrating and he would excuse himself.

  Jen smiled despite their predicament and her tiredness.

  ‘No dad, he’s picked up another murder, that’s why he keeps nipping out to get the updates from his team,’ she said just as Maisy opened her eyes.

  ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I thought he was a bit young to have bladder trouble.’ Ralph smiled at Maisy and she scowled. Her bottom lip out she moaned. ‘I’ll go and get us a drink shall I?’

  ‘If you must. I’m awash with tea,’ Jen said, not taking her eyes off her daughter’s face. ‘Hello sweetie, how are you feeling,’ she said.

  Chapter Five

  In the foyer of the hospital Dylan was talking in hushed tones. ‘Thank you for ringing me back Detective Inspector Dylan,’ Beryl from Forensic said. ‘I have good news for you. I’ve a hit on the system for Operation Walnut.’

  ‘Let me just... get a pen and paper, I’m... at the hospital,’ he said feverishly feeling in the inside pocket of his jacket for his notebook and pen. Back to the wall he leant his notebook on the door jamb. ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘On the system for the first, and indeed the only time, last year Roger Briggs appears for a drink-drive offence.’

  ‘Can you email me his reference number and any other details you might have?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Have I ever told you, you’re one amazing woman Miss Knight?’ he said.

  Dylan put his phone back in his pocket and turned around to face Ralph who was standing directly behind him.

  ‘Who’s this Miss Knight then lad?’ he said. Dylan looked at him with his lips tightly pressed together. ‘Just in case you wished to know, your daughter... remember your daughter Maisy? Well, she’s just woken up from the anaesthetic.’

  Dylan set off quickly and pushed past his father-in-law. Maisy was awake? He had to get to her.

  He walked hurriedly past a doctor and a nurse who appeared to be swapping notes; brushed past a patient being pushed along the corridor in a wheelchair and zig zagged in-between two food trollies that held the patients’ tea.

  Maisy had nodded back to sleep when he went into the ward but she looked peaceful. Jen was holding her hand but her head was laid on the bed, her eyes were closed. Dylan watched from the doorway for a moment or two not wanting to break the peace of the scene after the trauma they had suffered in the last forty-eight hours. Jen must have sensed a presence as she raised her head slowly, opened her eyes and focused on his face. She smiled broadly. ‘The results are in,’ she said, waving a piece of paper; then sighed with relief. ‘The virus that caused the toxic shock was streptococcus A.’

  Dylan walked towards them. Bent down and kissed Maisy’s forehead. ‘The common cold?’ he said. With a puzzled expression he tilted his head towards Jen.

  ‘Yes, It appears Maisy is allergic to it. However the operation was successful and now they know what they are dealing with she’ll remain on antibiotics via the intravenous drip for a while, but she’s out of the woods.’

  Dylan put a hand to her daughter’s head and held it there for a moment or two. He could no longer hold back the tears that found their way from the corners of his eyes. ‘She’s not going to lose her leg?’

  ‘She is not going to lose her leg. Her temperature has already stabilised,’ Jen said. She looked questioningly at the notebook Dylan held in his hand.

  ‘News from Forensic,’ he said. ‘We’ve a hit on Operation Walnut.’

  ‘You’d better get going.’

  Dylan bent down and kissed Jen on the top of her head. ‘You know I love you both more than anything...’

  ‘I know you do. If I was in need of an SIO right now there is no one else I’d rather have on my side,’ she said tiredly. ‘Go, go,’ she said waving him away. ‘I’ll keep you updated.’

&nb
sp; Dylan smiled down at his wife and bent down for a kiss. Jen kissed him on the lips and pulled playfully at his tie, holding it firm for one more.

  ‘Not the green one?’ she said, with a frown. ‘Whilst the cat’s away the mouse wears his old ties.’

  ‘I’m going to a post-mortem I don’t think they will really care at the mortuary what tie I am wearing,’ he said.

  ‘I care,’ she said. Dylan backed out of the room towards the door and blew her a kiss.

  ‘Keep me updated,’ he said. At that moment Ralph appeared, head down, carrying two cups of tea.

  ‘Hey, steady on,’ he said as Dylan walked into his path. ‘Where’s the bloody fire?’

  The tea slopped over into the saucers. ‘I suppose you’ll want one now you’re here,’ he said putting the drinks down on the bedside unit. He mopped the overspill with a tissue. ‘I’ll go and get you one,’ he sighed gruffly as he handed Jen her cup and saucer.

  ‘No, not for me thanks,’ Dylan said. ‘I’ve got to go, look after them both for me.’

  Ralph’s jawline twitched. ‘And I thought you were different... You’re all the same you bloody coppers...’

  ‘Dad?’ Jen said with a frown. ‘What’s that about?’

  ‘Him, he’s no different from that other policeman you were in love with... that Shaun Turner,’ he said.

  Jen looked puzzled.

  ‘He heard me on the phone to Beryl,’ Dylan said.

  Jen smiled at Dylan. ‘Beryl... ah, yes, Miss Knight – the other woman?’ Dylan was pleased to see Jen raise a smile.

  ‘You’d better not keep her waiting,’ she said, her face now showing no emotion. She shook her head slowly from side to side and tutted.